Very Early Indeed

My most recently completed feature-length screenplay, A Darkling Plane, has been chosen as a Quarter-finalist in the first round of contests it was submitted to. In particular, the American Screenwriting Competition, sponsored by Hollywood Scriptwriter Magazine and Flat Shoe Entertainment. It represents the top 5% of those screenplays submitted.

Now, this is very early indeed, and the likelihood that it will progress is very slim, particularly since this was the original draft. However, it is rare that Quarterifinalists are “published,” even online, and because it has been published, online, it makes for an excellent addition to my resume, joining Intelligence, Blaring Static, and Occult Blood amongst those scripts of mine that have received some recognition.

Wish me luck, and here’s the website.

American Screenwriting Competition Quarter-finalists.

Also, apparently, I am:

The Subtle, and Perhaps Shy, Neck. You are quietly appreciated more than you think. Not only for your acceptance of gentle kisses, but for the significance your fragility owns. You are easily damaged by whiplash or simply an overstuffed pillow. People even slice you when things aren’t going so great. But keep your chin up, literally. Click Here to Take This Quiz

Your Whole Life, Even Twice

Should you live your whole life, even twice, and do nothing else, you need never hear the same song twice, you need never read the same sentence again, nor view the same picture or painting for more than a moment, and neither film nor play nor episode nor even joke need ever be repeated to you: for you will not run out. Life is so very full. And I am still so very bored.

The Goose is Getting Fat

Time is doing that old trick again, the one at which it so excels. By all appearances, it looks like it’s dragging along on one limp leg — but when you blink, it’s sped past and out of sight. Rather like a flight across country. It seems that it will never end, then it seems that it never happened at all.

On cross-country flights:

Against my more cheerful wishes, I’ve agreed to work in Vegas once again in January. Money demands it. So, in too short a time, I will return to Caesar’s Casino. I will remove the decorations I spent three weeks installing in November. I will fly out to McCarran on January 2nd, and return to Philadelphia on January 10th. Before accepting, I contacted Niad Management to inquire whether this might impact the internship — they advised that I not worry. This could mean that they simply haven’t been able to get things on track, or that I’m not the train they intend to having riding it. I can’t help but fearing I’ll have waited five months for a rejection. The endless procession of contests has given it a rhythm that’s familiar and unshakable.

On rejection:

My sister was not accepted to Hampshire. I am deeply disappointed in that school. What more can be said of that?

On disappointment: 

Caroline was to visit me tomorrow, since I am rather confident she’s amongst those I’m unlikely to meet again, once I move to the West Coast. But, again, as an encore, I suppose, the demands of her program, and her cluttered schedule, have made that impossible. I’m not sure what I will do now. When Benni comes to Millville for Christmas, we’ll work on the PilloMan Christmas Short DVD, and maybe some storyboards for Antebellum. It would be nice to feel involved in film-making again, instead of simply writing blueprints for towers never built.

On Towers Never to be Built: 

A few days ago, I completed a revision of A Darkling Plane, but I’m not sure what I intend to do with it now. I’ve started work on the Antebellum website, but in order to keep myself interested, I’ve made it more challenging than is wise. Certainly more challenging than necessary or requested. I also mean to complete a revision of Tumble Dry, the short for Ben Schwartz, as well as continue pushing forward on Storybook Park. Again, finding a reason, a palpable motivation, to finish full-length screenplays is now a daily challenge. I desperately want to make something. I’ve been thinking about the call to make Ladies & Gentlemen, but the initial failure of two years ago is too daunting to surmount.

On Making Something: 

I think that I should offer “writing-for-hire” on my website. I spotted another writer on Zoetrope.com who apparently makes some money that way. I could post on Mandy.com and Craigslist.com. I should also advertise my web-design hobby as a potential source of finance. For my career, I should write queries to two-hundred agents and three-hundred producers and production companies.

I should stop watching the DVD commentary on Lord of the Rings.

But it snowed tonight, and I spent time in it with Bacon. The changing of seasons, when they really hit, is always both comforting and sad. The smells, the sensations, of being in a full-blown season that you’d almost forgotten about — it calls to memory a thousand things. Sleeping in the fort behind the house. Get-togethers in the frigid garage. Camping on the Dakin stairs. Filming Darwin’s Kids, or my DivIII. They feel both present again, and remarkably lost.

I only have a few more presents to buy.

Everything Up in the Air

I wrote an e-mail to inquire about the progress of the selection process on my LA internship. I received the following response:

I apologize for not getting back to you. The process has indeed been delayed. Everything is up in the air. As of right now, I’m not sure when we will have our new intern start. It might not be until after the Holiday. I will keep you updated. Thank you for your interest and persistence.

Jennifer Graff
Niad Management
3465 Coy Drive
Sherman Oaks, CA 91423

So, I’m taking visitors until January. I probably won’t be sleeping much until then, so it’s the perfect chance to bid Wilder good-bye, before he heads to Los Angeles in January, as the plan had always been.

The Time Traveler’s Wife Too.

I just read The Dogs of Babel from cover to cover. Either it’s the saddest, most heart-wrenching book I’ve ever read, or I’m cracking up, but I’ve been unable to stop crying for hours. Yeah. Cracking up.

Back

My month away has come to a close.

The sad part is, it was freezing out west. Blistering, wind-burning cold. On my drive across the Mojave mountain pass, between Vegas and LA, I was trapped in snow. I-15 was closed off, with me on it, first at Primm, at the state line, and later at Barstow. A four hour drive became 18 hours, stranded in a snow-covered desert. Quite an experience, but I made it to the interview on time.

Now, I’m in an oddly unpleasant place between boredom and anxiety. I don’t know whether to pull for or wish against the internship off Mulholand drive, where the girl wore a Grover tee-shirt. Winning it would mean a long-awaited step toward a career, a step away from Christmas decorations, skin biopsies, and patient charts, but it would also mean a sudden and too-expensive relocation to Los Angeles. As in – Thursday.

Losing the internship would mean incredible disappointment and self-doubt, and a future without any direction, and still, an expensive, if now more gradual, relocation to Los Angeles.

I fear that I will see none of my friends in the short while left before I travel to LA, no matter the time table. My friendships are all internet fantasies. Spammers show more loyalty. Promises are made to cross the digital divide, but no one can find the time to come through. Their lives are on track, and can’t afford being derailed. I understand that.

I’ve considered throwing myself a going-away party. It would be quite a laugh.

***

Christmas is drawing near. It is, as always, my favorite holiday, but with it comes a timeless feeling of solitude and poverty. The lonely are lonelier at Christmas. The poor are poorer. Somehow, my previously perfect credit score has taken an inexplicable nose-dive, leaving me utterly unable to secure any new credit. With the massive expenses of relocation ahead, it’s hard to imagine surviving, or even being approved for an apartment, without any credit. Money slurps away much faster than I can make it, even when I’m willing to travel the coutnry, slaving over costly decorations.

***

I lost $1.50 in Vegas. I won about $0.75.

Taking a shower one morning, two quarters fell from nowhere onto the bathtub floor. Clunk. Clunk. Were they stuck in my hair? Had I slept on them, and gotten them affixed to my back? Or were they magic quarters, destined to secure my future? I’ll never know. The slot machines don’t take coins anymore.

I’m thankful for a brief visit from Barb. I am thankful that I am home, and my puppy is here to keep me company, dirty as he is. He missed me, and he’s still excited to have me back, even while I’m finding it hard to be glad I’m back.

Being away from home kept away the demons that taunt me to find a direction. Being back gives them trumpets.

***

Ben, the DP from Momentary Engineering has asked me to write a short film for him to produce. The requirements he set out are a bit daunting:

1. 5-15 pages, approx. 10 mins.
2. Action covers one complete event in continuous time; no flashbacks, flash-forwards, jumping around in time.
3. Minimal, if any, dialogue; no voice-over narration; I want the piece to be more visual than verbal.
4. Surprise/twist ending, something that completely blindsides the audience.
5. Some comedic overtones, even if the story isn’t a full-on comedy; there are just too many dour, overly serious student films out there.

I’ve been wracking my brain, but his requirements concerning dialogue and time play directly against my strong-suits. He seems to be describing a Three Stooges short. But I’ll give it my best shot, since I remain honored to be asked.

***

I’m also trying to write Storybook Park.

I’ve revised the first chunk down to 30 pages. With a few more tweaks, I’ll be ready to move forward, but my passion is low. Low passion has become all-too common. It results from a lack of synergy.

I have a hard time convincing myself that writing has a purpose or a future for me. These stories are not shared with anyone. It’s hard to work hard on something that is ultimately ignored. It’s hard to put in months on a piece that gets an hour of discussion from those you know, and then is forgotten.

I feel the lack of a partner.

It’s a dull, lingering feeling.